


Take Me Home

by Rhinozilla



Series: Detroit 07 [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Drunkenness, Father-Son Relationship, Gavin is still an asshole, Gen, Good Friend Tina Chen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Humor, Poor Connor, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhinozilla/pseuds/Rhinozilla
Summary: Hank gets a late night call. Four fellow officers are too drunk to drive themselves home, so instead they drive Hank crazy as he makes sure they get home safely. Tina just wanted burritos. Chris was bored. Gavin got invited for some reason. And apparently androids can get drunk, but Connor is incapable at the moment of explaining how that works. Hank just wants them all to shut up.





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Listen...at some point I'm going to write respectable DBH fic. Today is not that day. Enjoy.

By the time Hank brought his car to a stop on the side of the road behind the taxi, the light rain had turned into a downpour, making the roads glisten and the shine of the headlights distort. Of the four idiots who had called him at…fuck, two am…only one of them was idiot enough to actually be outside of the vehicle.

He parked behind the taxi and made no move to get out. Just because four grown ass police officers couldn’t get their sloppy, drunk selves home didn’t mean he had to get soaked rescuing them. The idiot who was already soaking wet lumbered away from the popped hood of the autonomous taxi and over to Hank’s driver’s side. He grumbled but rolled his window down…just a crack.

“Shit’s fucked.” Gavin didn’t sound drunk…probably the cold rain. Hank knew a thing or two about how fast a cold dunk could clear your head. Gavin pointed his finger at the taxi, as though Hank couldn’t put it together himself, so maybe King Idiot still was pretty drunk. “Piece of shit broke—broke down. Stupid—“

“Whatever. Get in.” Hank flashed his headlights once to get the other three’s attention. “What, you, Tina, Chris, and Wilson decide to throw a party without me?”

Gavin gave him a weird look, made an even weirder noise between a laugh and a bark, and leaned away from the window, waving the others over.

The other three shadows were clamoring out of the dry warmth of the taxi and beelining toward the car, tripping on their own feet and grabbing onto each other for balance. Gavin took the liberty of grabbing the front passenger seat, leaving the others to scramble into the back seat.

“Lewwwtent,” Chris slurred as he fell into the back seat on the passenger side. “I am so sorry about this.”

He was clearly putting a lot of effort into enunciating his words, and he was making way too much eye contact with Hank as he tried to apologize.

“Dibs on the window seat! Whoo!” Tina was howling as she yanked open the back door behind Hank. “Hey, AnderSON!” She elbowed the third idiot. “I called dibs, so get your robot ass in there, Terminator.”

Hank sat bolt upright and then spun in his seat as, sure enough, Connor uncoordinatedly fell into the back seat. His movements were awkward, and his LED was putting on a show of blue and yellow.

“Connor?!” Hank balked.

“I gotcha.” Chris reached out and grabbed Connor’s forearms, pulling the android into the middle of the back seat and helping him arrange himself into a sitting position. “I gotcha.”

Connor seemed…floppy, as he tried to straighten up. He looked at Hank ahead of him, smiled, and waved as though Hank was very far away.

“GOOD EVENING, LIEUTENANT,” he spoke loudly.

“Jesus.” Gavin flinched away from the seat. “Fuckin’ dial it down!”

“GOOD MORNING, LIEUTENANT!” Connor frowned, eyes glazed and dilated. His expression twisted into grave concern and he looked to Chris. “IS IT MORNING OR EVENING? MY INTERNAL CLOCK IS…UNCLEAR.”

Tina dropped into the seat behind Hank, cradling a white takeout box like it was her firstborn child. She pulled the door closed and dropped her head back against the head rest.

“It’s gonna be the day you fuckin’ die if you don’t shut up!” Gavin swatted one hand clumsily toward the back seat.

Hank shoved Gavin’s shoulder, as he seemed the most sober. “What the fuck is going on here?”

Gavin gave a cartoonishly dramatic shrug and started wrestling with his seat belt. Hank changed tactics, addressing Chris.

“Chris, same question.”

Chris pointed a finger at the ceiling and took a deep breath to begin his explanation. He paused, wilted, and then straightened up again. “It’s Tina’s fault.”

“Fuckin’!” Tina reached across Connor and smacked Chris in the chest. “Snitch!”

Gavin cackled, and Connor made the closest noise he had to a laugh: sort of a snickery, hissing noise. Hank took a moment to glare at each of them until they shut up.

“Why are you all…Nope, don’t care…How did you get _Connor_ drunk? Hey, hey!” He reached back and lightly smacked Connor on the cheek to get his attention. “How are you drunk? You’re…plastic and metal.”

Connor narrowed his eyes in concentration, but his wide pupils diluted the effect. “Alcohol.”

“Yep, that’ll do it!” Tina wrapped an arm around Connor and gave him a squeeze.

“It…” Connor twitched a bit as he focused. “Alcohol and Thirium.” He lifted both hands, signifying one hand as alcohol and the other as Thirium. “When they mix…” He interlaced his fingers.

“Yeah?” Hank pressed.

Connor made a soft explosion sound effect, rubbing his fingers together before dropping his hands heavily back into his lap. He looked smugly at Hank, as if he’d just explained the simplest thing in the world.

God, Hank picked a bad time to stop drinking himself.

“Whatever, just…are you okay? You’re not going to…short circuit or shut down, are you?”

Connor shook his head animatedly as a response, quickly grabbing onto Tina and Chris’s knees at his sides when the world seemed to spin with him.

“Christ.” Hank turned back around. “All right. Everybody buckle up. Gavin, what the Hell made you think you could fix an autonomous vehicle in a downpour?”

“Fuck you, I can fix shit.”

Tina helped Connor figure out the center seat belt, chiming in. “All you had was a hammer, and Connor just kept suggesting that you check the car’s Thirium pump regulator.”

“I still think that was a reasonable course of action,” Connor said, leaning sideways against Chris.

“Why did you have a hammer?” Hank asked, turning on the heat and aiming the vents at a shivering Gavin.

“Was Tina’s.”

“Okay…Tina, why did you have a hammer?”

“Why wouldn’t I have a hammer? Come on.”

Hank groaned, verified that all four idiots were buckled up, and put the car into drive. He pulled back onto the road, aiming toward Chris’s house first, since it was closest.

“Why would a car have a Thirium pump regulator?” Chris asked.

Connor’s passive expression softened. “Cars don’t have hearts?”

“No, man…”

Connor looked overwhelmed with sorrow at the idea. “Wh-why not?!”

“Because they’re fuckin’ machines, dipshit,” Gavin growled, holding his hands close to the warm air coming from the vents.

“I’m a machine too!” Connor argued.

“Well, I rest my case,” Gavin shrugged.

Hank glanced at Connor in the rearview mirror. The android was glaring at the back of Gavin’s head, and when Connor spoke, his voice was almost stone cold sober.

“Gavin, you are a bastard.”

Tina howled and Chris snorted into his hands as Gavin twisted in his seat.

“The Hell did you say?!”

“All right.” Hank took one hand off the wheel to shove Gavin back to facing forward. “No one has answered my question yet. Why are you all drunk and together? Chris, sound off.”

“Tina wanted burritos.”

“Don’t you dare call these masterpieces just “burritos.” They are only the single greatest—“ Tina railed.

Chris ignored her. “And I was bored since my wife and kid are out of town, so when she invited me out with her and Gavin, I agreed.”

“Why were you invited?” Hank asked Gavin.

“Ha ha fuckin’ ha. They are damn good burritos, for your information.”

Chris went on. “We got the burritos, and they were serving drinks too, so we all thought…why not? Then, we were all drunk and couldn’t drive home, so we called Connor.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And you…Connor, hey!...Why did you get drunk?”

Connor was leaning heavily against Chris now, looking like he was starting to nod off. “Bonding attempt…co-workers…social program…might have miscalculated.”

Hank swallowed a dozen swears and wrinkled his nose. “Tina, those burritos smell like shit. What the Hell is that?”

Gavin started fiddling with the dials on the radio, and Tina beamed.

“Kim Lee’s original, authentic spaghetti burritos.”

Hank almost pulled the car over right then and there. “Jesus, what? You don’t mean spaghetti in burrito form?”

Tina pointed her face at the ceiling and bellowed. “I mean spaghetti in burrito form, bitch!”

“They’re actually pretty good,” Chris admitted.

Hank looked incredulously to Gavin, who was fiercely concentrating on the radio and ignoring him.

“Oh…oh, we’re losing him!” Chris said quietly.

Hank looked in the rearview mirror again to see that Connor had slipped completely into sleep mode, slumping against Chris’s shoulder.

“Shit, is he okay?” Hank demanded.

Chris shifted Connor around enough to see his LED was a steady blue. “Yeah, think he just passed out. I think that was his first time getting drunk, and he couldn’t handle it.”

Tina snorted, “That’s fuckin’ great.”

“ _Almost heaven…West Virginia_ …” the speakers softly started to sing.

Gavin straightened up in his seat, eyes lighting up at the classic song that pooled over the car radio. He gave Hank his most asshole grin and flashed the same look back at Tina.

“Blue ridge mountains!” Tina chimed immediately, loud and horrifically off key.

“Shenandoah River!” Chris joined her, just as loud but more in tune.

“What have you done?” Hank glared at Gavin.

Gavin just threw his head back and joined in with the other two.

“Life is old there…older than the TREEEEEEEEEES…”

“This song is nearly 70 years old. How do you all even know it?” Hank moaned.

The three cops ignored him, singing on…badly.

“Younger than the mountains.” Tina and Chris were snapping their fingers now. “Growin’ like a breeze!”

All three practically screamed the chorus as it rolled on.

“Country ROOOOOADS!!! Take me HOOOOOOME!!! To the plaaaace….I BELOOOONG.”

The commotion woke up Connor, who came out of sleep mode in a slight panic. His program seemed to take over in the confusion, and he blurted out the next lyrics with them.

“West VIRGINIA! Mountain MAMA!!! Take me home…country roads!”

He deflated a bit as awareness came back to him, and a slightly embarrassed grin told Hank that the alcohol’s effect was already starting to wear off. The other three weren’t so lucky, practically shaking the car as they bounced in their seats to the old tune.

“Shit, dude, you can actually sing?” Tina smiled at him as Chris and Gavin continued to sing.

Connor shrunk a bit in a rare display of self consciousness, but Chris wouldn’t have it and looped an arm around him, urging him back into the choir.

“—tear drop in my eye…Country ROOOOADS!” Chris slurred a bit, but he was genuinely smiling at the poor android sandwiched between him and Tina.

“Take me HOOOME!” Tina drummed her hands on her knees, avoiding the precious takeout box in her lap.

“To the plaaace…I BELONG!” Gavin pumped a fist in the air.

“WEST VIRGINIA!” All three bellowed. “Mountain MAMA!”

Tina pointed both index fingers at Connor expectantly.

“T-take me home…” Connor rejoined them haltingly. “Country roads…”

Tina cackled and pulled Connor to her, planting an affectionate kiss smack on the side of his jaw. “You beautiful toaster, you!”

Hank fought to keep his scowl in place, lest any of these morons think he actually found any of this entertaining. Which he did, dammit.

“You all are butchering this song, by the way.” He forced a gruff tone into his voice.

His efforts were neither noticed nor his words heeded as they continued to sing and scream and holler the lyrics to the song…surprisingly getting most of the words right despite Gavin’s chattering teeth and Tina’s need to over-pronounce every other word.

Hank finally just gave up and let them go at it until he pulled the car up outside Chris’s house. Chris was fortunately steady on his feet, and he affectionately reached out, ruffling Connor’s hair with one hand and reaching his other hand up into the front seat to ruffle Gavin’s too. Gavin yanked away from the contact, while Connor almost leaned into it like a labrador. Because of course he did.

“Good night, Chris.” Hank waved at him.

Chris gave a floppy salute and made his way up to his front porch. Hank waited until he was inside and a light came on before he pulled his car back into traffic. Next stop, Tina’s apartment.

The song wound down, and Chris’s departure seemed to pop the warm bubble that had swallowed them all up. Tina slouched a bit in her seat, her cellphone’s glow lighting her face as she fiddled with it. Connor slumped equally next to her, using her shoulder as a headrest. She didn’t seem to mind all of a sudden. In the front seat, Gavin was starting to stiffen up in his seat in a way that Hank unfortunately recognized.

“No puking in my car.”

“M’fine,” Gavin mumbled, keeping his eyes closed and his spine straight.

They enjoyed a full minute of silent driving.

“Humans like burritos,” Connor interrupted softly. “Humans like spaghetti too. Why is the idea of combining them so…disgusting to you?”

Hank glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Connor staring back at him quizzically.

Tina snorted, reaching up and patting his cheek. “Hank is a man with limited taste and no vision. That’s why.”

Hank squawked, pulling over outside Tina’s apartment building. “My vision is fine, and I can SEE that that is an unholy abomination that you call food.”

Without moving, Gavin argued, “Don’t knock it til you try it.”

Hank glared at him, but the other man didn’t open his eyes to accept the glare. “Well I’m not trying it.”

Tina popped open the door, awkwardly extricating herself from the seat, carefully keeping her burrito box safe against her chest. She knocked her knuckles against the window.

“Thanks for the lift, Lieutenant. You’re a good bean.”

“Don’t call me a bean!”

But the door was already shut, and she was traipsing up and through her front door. Connor immediately took the opportunity to take over the entire back seat, dropping out of view with a groggy sigh. Hank had barely started to turn the steering wheel back toward the road before Gavin was grappling at the door handle. He shoved the door open, leaned out, and vomited on the street.

Hank grimaced and twisted around, looking back at Connor, folded up across the back seat.

“Androids don’t throw up when they drink too much, do they?”

“…Yet to be seen, but I don’t feel ill,” Connor said, looking sheepish. “Sorry, Hank.”

Gavin finished and spit once, wiping his jacket sleeve across his mouth and sliding back against the seat. Hank faced forward again.

“You good?”

He got an affirmative grunt, and he slowly nosed his car back out onto the street.

Blessedly, traffic was light, and they reached Gavin’s apartment without further incident. Both Gavin and Connor seemed to have dozed off by that point, and Hank might have pumped his brakes a little harder than was necessary as he pulled over. He didn’t see Connor’s reaction, but Gavin lurched forward with the momentum, groaning and grabbing at the door to stop the world from rocking.

“You’re home, dumbass,” Hank explained. “You gonna make it?”

“Yeah.” Gavin squinted and rubbed his hands against his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for not hurling in my car. Now get out. I’m tired of looking at you,” Hank said flatly.

Gavin snorted and climbed out of the car. Hank again waited until he was in and he saw a light come on before pulling away from the curb and starting the long drive home.

“You still alive back there?” he asked.

Connor sat himself up in the back seat, looking more sober than he had all night…and like he was starting to think again.

“Did you enjoy the social bonding with your fellow officers?” Hank chastised lightly.

Connor tilted his head, eyes twitching a bit as he cleared whatever warnings were scrolling across his vision. “It has been…an experience…Further analysis will be required but…It was nice. For the first time since my activation, I felt like I had truly integrated with my co-workers.” He looked forlornly at Hank. “That’s not going to be the case when we return to work, is it?”

Hank pursed his lips and lifted his shoulders. “I dunno. You could be surprised. Chris and Tina seemed to warm up to you pretty good tonight. You survived a night around a drunk Gavin, that’s a pretty big achievement.”

Connor looked thoughtful. “I…enjoyed their company. It was pleasant to be included and not…hated.”

Jesus, this kid was breaking his fucking heart.

Hank pulled the car up into the driveway of his house.

“They don’t hate you, Connor. Gavin…maybe, but fuck him. He’ll either come around or he won’t. The others? Tina, Chris, Ben, Wilson, Person, all them? They’re making progress. Just takes a little time is all. Look, you wormed your way into my good graces, so trust me, it’ll work out.”

The rain had abated to a mist, and Hank turned off the car, climbing out. Connor got out of the back seat, steady but moving a little wobbly as they went inside the house.

“Go power down and get some sleep. Tomorrow we get to find out if androids get hangovers,” Hank tutted, dropping his keys on the kitchen table.

Connor looked alarmed at the idea as he mechanically moved to the couch. “I sincerely hope not.”

Hank flipped the lights off as he started down the hallway. He cast one glance back to see Connor’s reflection in the TV: draped on his front on the couch, like he’d just landed there and given up on moving. Sumo had sauntered over and curled up on the floor in front of the couch, nosing at Connor’s closer hand for pets. He watched Connor’s back rise and fall with one heavy sigh as his hand automatically obliged in giving the big dog a few pets on the head. Hank snorted, shaking his head and moving into his bedroom.

The soft, almost inaudible sound of Connor humming followed him, and Hank let himself smile in amusement as the android alternatively hummed and mumbled the words to that old John Denver song as he drifted into sleep mode.

Idiots. The lot of them.

With that belligerently affectionate thought, Hank crawled back into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> With apologies to John Denver.


End file.
